


Easy Come, Easy Go

by mugsandpugs



Category: X-Men Evolution
Genre: Crack, Fluff and Humor, Gen, Lietro if you squint, Road Trips, being dorks, but just brotherhood boys, mugs loves freddie mercury
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-25
Updated: 2017-08-25
Packaged: 2019-03-23 18:16:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,154
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13793382
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mugsandpugs/pseuds/mugsandpugs
Summary: Lance's Jeep's radio doesn't always work so high in the mountains. Luckily, there's still audiocasettes.





	Easy Come, Easy Go

The radio didn’t work well so far in the mountains, and the itchy unbearability of silence had them searching the upholstery for any source of music.

“Lance, man, your jeep is hella gross,” Todd complained, when digging between the backseat cushions unearthed long petrified beef jerky, pen caps, dimes, and what might have been a condom wrapper.

“So clean it yourself then.” Lance, as usual in the driver’s seat despite his fatigue (Pietro’s driving was enough to give him heart palpitations and Todd had never driven so much as a golf cart; Fred was on standby if his vision really started to blur) grouched.

“Check the glove compartment?” Fred suggested, and, feeling everyone’s eyes on him, Pietro roused from his grumpy funk.

“Fine, whatever,” he said. There was barely enough room to open the thing, what with his seat pushed so far forward to accommodate Fred behind him. He narrated what he shuffled through. “Expired coupons, mostly empty water bottle, is that a hospital bracelet? Oh, gross, that’s definitely medical tape, Lance, ew, it’s bloody. Car manual… oh, _here_ we go.”

The sharpie writing on the plastic casette tape had mostly rubbed off, but he still managed to read it. “Retro hits,” he read aloud, a silver eyebrow arching. “Didn’t know you were the type, Lancelot.“

"Shut up,” Lance snapped. “It probably belonged to the guy I bought the jeep from.”

“Well, play it!” Todd cheered, pounding small webbed fists on the back of Lance’s seat. “I can’t stand the sounds of our guts growling no more, yo.”

More to shut him up than anything, Pietro slid it into the cassette player and pressed the triangular play button.

He regretted this action immediately.

“- NEED YOU MORE THAN EVER!” howled Bonnie Tyler. “AND IF YOU ONLY HOLD ME TIGHT!”

“Oh, my god,” Pietro whispered, appalled at the cheesy ballad.

Todd was cackling. “This shit is my jam, yo!” He exclaimed, and it was impossible to tell whether he was joking or serious. He leaned forward- clearly no longer bothering with the seatbelt, and sang passionately (if tunelessly) “We’ll be holding on forever!”

“Lance slow down I’m going to throw myself out of this car,” Pietro said, fumbling for the door. Smiling evilly, Lance engaged the child locks with the touch of a button.

“If I have to deal with this, so do you.”

“Once upon a time, I was falling in love,” Fred sang, in a surprisingly melodic tenor. “But now I’m only falling apart.”

Todd fell back and flung his arm around Fred’s neck, and together they declared for God and everyone to hear: “There’s nothing I can do; a total eclipse of the heart!”

Lance, the sadistic bastard, was actually smiling now. A real smile- the kind that showed his crooked back teeth and made the white lines at the edges of his eyes crinkle.

“There’s got to be something tolerable on this thing,” Pietro insisted, hitting the fast forward button and stopping randomly. The impossibly familiar opening piano chords began to strum. “Oh no,” he moaned, but when he tried to press the button again, Lance stopped him.

“This,” he declared formally. “Is my jam. Mama, just killed a man…”

“I’m about to kill a man,” Pietro protested. “I am about to kill several men.”

Everyone ignored him. It appeared that Bohemian Rhapsody was a group favorite.

“I see a little silhouetto of a man,” Lance said, turning in his seat to face Pietro fully. He was grinning like a naughty adolescent Labrador with paws too big for his body, both aware that he had tracked mud throughout the house and that he was too cute to be punished for it.

“Scaramouche, Scaramouche, will you do the Fandango?!” Fred and Todd gleefully questioned.

Pietro was not going to do the Fandango. He was going to do nothing but sink down in his seat and wish for an abrupt and merciful death as Fred sang the high and Todd sang the low Galileos.

“I’m just a poor boy, nobody loves me!” Lance bemoaned, so into his singing that they actually swerved and had to quickly right the jeep lest they all roll down the mountainside.

“HE’S JUST A POOR BOY; FROM A POOR FAMILY!” Todd was standing in his seat now, kept from blowing away only by Fred’s firm grip on his leg.

Pietro was not at all inclined to spare anyone’s life from this monstrosity. While Fred and Todd alternatively begged for some unseen force to let Lance go, the Avalanche slung a casual arm around Pietro’s shoulders, eyes still firmly on the road. His smile had softened somewhat.

“Come on,” he said, so quietly the backseat yahoos wouldn’t be able to hear it over their own glee. “You’re allowed to have fun, too.”

Pietro scoffed. Fun? This was _fun_?!

Lance’s soft smile morphed into a smirk at Pietro’s pouting expression. He nudged him with his knee. “Unless you don’t know how to, of course.”

Oh that rock-brained rat bastard! Pietro knew how to have fun. He knew how to have more fun than anyone! He threw his head back. “ Oh, baby, can’t do this to me, baby! Just gotta get out, just gotta get right outta here!”

Fred and Todd were actually cheering now, even as they aggressively head banged to the guitar solo which, Pietro was reluctant to admit, did stir his blood vigorously. Throwing caution regarding his hair to the wind, he too banged his head, neatly avoiding the glove compartment, and frantically strummed an air guitar. The smile that wrenched his face was as involuntary as it was genuine.

How absolutely ridiculous they were.

Lance slammed on the breaks so suddenly that it was only Blob’s strength and Quicksilver’s reflexes that kept Todd inside the jeep.

“What the fuck, Alvers?!” Pietro demanded, heart pounding, and slammed his hand on the square-shaped stop button. The jeep fell into silence. Following Lance’s mortified stare, Pietro saw a familiar, shiny red convertable pulled over to the side of the road on the scenic mountain paths, a collection of gawking X-Men midst rescue training staring at them with bugged eyes.

“Oh, my god,” Lance whispered. Kitty had both hands over her mouth, containing her giggles.

“Lance, man, you gotta keep moving,” Fred reminded him gently. “We don’t have that much gas.”

Swallowing drily, Lance averted his gaze from the now jeering group of mutants, who would no doubt hold this over him forever. He steered carefully around them and continued up the path.

“What?” Todd called over his shoulder to the receding group. “Can’t four guys rock out to Queen? Freddie Mercury was a genius! You schmucks don’t appreciate true art!”

The jeep fell into silence. Nobody dared move, until Fred leaned forward and pressed the play button again.

“Oh, man!” Todd’s smile was back, splitting his face bright as ever. “This one is my jam, too! Some _body_ once told me…”


End file.
